


Snowflakes

by the_seaworthy_muffin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because Merlin, Businessman Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Fluff, Grudgingly besotted Arthur, M/M, Snow Sprit! Merlin, but only in Arthur's flat, truly ridiculous amounts of fluff, with magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_seaworthy_muffin/pseuds/the_seaworthy_muffin
Summary: The modern Merlin snow spirit! AU.Or: Five ridiculous things about Merlin, and why Arthur keeps him around anyway. 5+1 things.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), past Arthur Pendragon/Sophia
Comments: 32
Kudos: 160





	Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is as promised- Snowflakes for Sunday!  
> It's truly nothing but ridiculous fluffy fluff to cheer myself up, but hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it :)  
> Unbeta'd- all mistakes are mine.

In retrospect, it was all because of the eyes.

The first time Arthur had met Merlin, he had been lying on the floor of Arthur’s flat, the shattered shards of Arthur’s windows all about him. Pale-skinned, shivering, as naked as the day as he was born. He’d claimed to be a snow spirit. Banished to the human world because his frost-magic was too strong, too wild and untamed and unpredictable.

Any sane man would have called the police. But then Merlin had raised his hand and blown a miniature snowstorm to life on top of it, and Arthur, who, for all his outward practicality had never let go of that childish belief in dragons, had nodded _yes_ as if under a spell.

That, and those eyes.

Merlin’s eyes were wide and guileless and the clearest winter-sky blue Arthur had ever seen in his life. And sad. They were sad, too. And shuttered in the way only the truly lonely could really understand. He had shivered a little, and blinked, skin pale and vulnerable beneath the dark sweep of spidery lashes that ringed his eyes. And Arthur couldn’t have possibly told him _no_ , when he’d asked Arthur for a place to spend a week, because he didn’t know anyone in the human world but Arthur, whose expensive windows he had accidentally blown in.

So, yes, Arthur blames those eyes.

And there are plenty of ridiculous occasions to mark Merlin’s stay at Arthur’s flat. Because, really, what would you expect, with a literal snow-spirit living under your roof?

❄️

  1. **Cooking mishaps**



Merlin is a horrifying cook.

The first morning he spends at Arthur’s flat, he decides to cook Arthur a thank-you breakfast. It doesn’t turn out very well. Arthur wakes up, hacking and coughing with stinging, watery eyes, to the unmistakable stench of smoke. When he manages to pull on a pair of trousers and make it to the kitchen, it’s only to see his once-pristine countertop heaped with soot and greyish smoke obscuring his view.

Merlin slaps a plate full of what looks like burnt fish that’s still raw in places, a hunk of carrot, and mayonnaise with jam in front of Arthur. His smile is wide and hopeful and tentative, and he’s standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He nearly swims in Arthur’s old hoodie from university, about two sizes too big on him.

“I didn’t know what humans ate,” Merlin says. “But I wanted to thank you for letting me stay, and it was the only way I could think of- I _do_ know that humans eat. Well.” He pauses. “Do you like it?”

Arthur looks towards his demolished kitchen, the carnage only now visible through the thinning curtain of smoke. The countertop is even frozen over in places, presumably where Merlin had tried to mitigate the damage the fire had caused.

Then he looks back towards Merlin, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited toddler.

He can’t bear himself to say _no_.

Once Arthur manages to scrape the last remnants of not-a-meal down his throat, Merlin beams and throws his arms around Arthur’s shoulders. His arms are tight and cool and exuberantly enthusiastic, in the way only young children seem to be able to. Arthur’s heart may or may not have melted a little, incoming headache notwithstanding.

He never does ask Merlin to cook for him again, though.

❄️

  1. **A total disregard for societal norms**



Once Merlin gets somewhat acclimated to life in the human world, he begins to wait for Arthur after work. Arthur should have said no- heaven knows what sort of trouble Merlin might land himself in next- but his heart never fails to lift whenever he sees the slim figure bouncing up and down at the parking lot, so he allows himself that one small indulgence.

The problem is that Merlin doesn’t seem to understand what social structure means. For example: that one does not call one’s boss a total arse and as rotten as an ice cube left out in summer, if one wishes to keep his job.

Arthur’s boss, though, incidentally _is_ a gigantic arse, which is why Arthur can’t bring himself to be too angry at Merlin for saying so.

“Stop it,” Merlin says, grabbing Cenred’s wrist in a deceptively strong grip. Arthur knows from experience that for all his bird-boned waifishness, Merlin’s supernatural strength is enough to bend steel spoons. “You’re being horrible!”

“What?” Cenred gapes.

“You called Arthur useless,” Merlin snaps. “Don’t you see how upset he is? You’re- you’re as rotten as an ice cube left out to melt, is what you are!”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, dragging the enraged spirit away by the arm, “That’s enough.”

“’m not taking it back,” Merlin says petulantly, color high on his pale cheeks. It’s a lot colder than it was a moment ago, and Merlin’s eyes are flashing dangerously silver-white. “Because it’s all true.”

“Yes, yes, it is,” Arthur says, trying very hard not to think about the repercussions of Merlin’s little outburst. And not to snort in hilarity about well-groomed, slick Cenred being compared to a melting ice-cube is too good to let pass without comment. “But I’m blaming you if I become jobless.”

“I made you jobless?” Merlin gapes, horror dawning on his face. “But I only said what was true!”

“Some people don’t like to hear that,” Arthur replies, sagely, to a now near-blubbering Merlin.

Thankfully he keeps his job, and Merlin, too. Merlin stops with the ice-cube comments, but he never does stop glaring at Cenred, and Arthur swears he sees his boss slip and fall on a patch of ice that simply hadn’t been there before.

❄️

  1. **Disastrously messy**



Merlin is a nature spirit. Which, apparently, means being one with nature and the elements reflecting his moods, and all that.

Arthur only realizes the implications once, one glorious late winter’s day, Merlin falls sick.

“I thought only humans got sick,” Arthur says, carefully maneuvering his way around a miniature glacier that’s making its sluggish way across his wood-panel floor. Merlin sniffs, glaring balefully at Arthur from under puffed-up eyelids. Yet another tissue joins the growing pile on the ground. Merlin’s nose is reddened and sore, and his voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away with how congested his nose has gotten.

“It’s true,” Merlin says. “I think you’ve been rubbing off of me.”

“Which wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t shared my flat with you!”

“Oh.” Merlin becomes instantly contrite after that. Arthur ignores Merlin’s several sneaky attempts to snuggle towards him like a particularly large cat before relenting and letting Merlin worm his head onto his lap. It’s ridiculous how he can’t manage to stay angry for any real length of time.

Together, they watch snow blanket the TV and the wind blow Arthur’s favorite throw blanket onto the stovetop. The drip-drip of the icicles dangling from the mantelpiece is surprisingly soothing. Arthur runs a hand through Merlin’s mess of inky black hair, musing at how Merlin’s cold really does make him _colder_ , almost like the insides of a refrigerator.

He’s going to make Merlin clean up the mess, Arthur thinks to himself, as the peace lulls both of them to sleep.

❄️

  1. **No sense of privacy (or personal space!)**



Merlin does not understand the meaning of personal space. Nor does he privacy, come to think about it.

It only takes three ridiculous days of non-stop jabbing and nosing and snooping about for Arthur to burst down and roar out, _yes, he broke up with Sophia, now by the love of god will he please shut up about it!_

Merlin is contrite for exactly two minutes. Then he proceeds to fix Arthur with a shrewd look, plop a plate of (still unfortunately simultaneously burnt and raw- Merlin’s culinary skills haven’t grown much over the duration of his stay) fish before Arthur, and tell him Sophia had been as useless as the desert sands and that he’d never even really liked her that much anyway. After that, he traps Arthur into a binge-marathon of Frozen, which doesn’t end until Arthur is shaking his head and laughing helplessly along to Anna and Kristoff’s antics.

“You can’t do this,” Arthur complains to Merlin, later. Merlin cocks his head in that innocent way of his. “What?”

“Barge into my private life like that! What if I hadn’t wanted to talk? Really hadn’t wanted to?”

“Oh.” Merlin bites his lip. “I used to share everything, before. With my kin.” His eyes are downcast, contrite. “Are you angry?”

Arthur probes his mind for where that clump of angry nerves of hurt used to rest, ready to lash out at anyone who came too near. It had settled firmly in his gut after the breakup, Sophia’s triumphant grin as she sashayed away with Valiant of all people entrenched deeply in his mind. But now-

It’s melted away.

 _Like an ice cube in summer,_ Arthur thinks to himself, and stifles a fond laugh.

“No,” Arthur says. “No, I don’t quite think that I am.”

❄️

  1. **Literal cold feet**



Merlin has cold feet. Literally.

His body temperature seems to be lower than that of humans’, cool to the touch even under the warm breeze of the heaters. His feet are no exception, and Arthur never fails to let out a faint yelp when they come into contact with his bare calves. It’s almost like sleeping with a cold water bottle in bed.

The problem: Merlin loves snuggling.

“I thought boyfriends were supposed to snuggle,” Merlin pouts, pointedly digging his bare feet into the exposed skin of Arthur’s legs. “Why do you keep running away?”

Arthur most certainly does not _yeep_. “Your feet are cold!” Arthur complains, rubbing at where there skin had met. “And you don’t even wear socks. It’s like- like- having a miniature snowman in bed.”

Merlin bites his lip. There’s something vulnerable about the way his hair spreads across the pristine white of the pillows. “But I am a snowman though. Sort of. Do you- want me to go away?”

Arthur is taken aback for a split second. “No! Don’t be ridiculous- whatever made you think so?”

“You can’t love me and reject my feet,” Merlin says resolutely, and shoves his feet back under the fold of Arthur’s pajamas.

Arthur sighs, ruffles Merlin’s hair in exasperated fondness, and pulls his ridiculous snow-spirit close.

❄️

+1. **But only you……**

“What’s this?” Arthur asks, holding the lump of misshapen wool Merlin has dumped into his hands. The spirit’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Arthur feels horrible about not knowing enough about the gift to be adequately appreciative. It does look like a garment of some sort, if that hole on the side is meant to be for the head……

Merlin’s blinding smile falters, then falls. “You can’t tell what it is?”

“I, ah.” Arthur splutters. “Is it- uh- a cape? Or- a cloak?”

“It was supposed to be a sweater.” Merlin snatches his gift back, sighing a little. “I’ve been watching You Tube.”

“Oh.” Arthur blinks. “You knit me a sweater?”

“You always said that no-one ever thought to give you handmade gifts,” Merlin says. And it’s true-Arthur does tend to come off as a bit posh, and intimidating, and most people opt for a bottle of wine rather than, say, homemade cookies- or knitted garments, as in Merlin’s case.

Warmth blooms at the tips of Arthur’s toes and curls up, pooling comfortably in the space beneath his sternum. “You remembered,” Arthur says, feeling inexplicably fond. He looks up, at the lovely, impossible creature standing before him, and something in his chest swells so large he worries it might burst.

“Of course I did!” Merlin huffs. “Who wouldn’t?”

 _Everyone but you_ , Arthur thinks, and pulls Merlin into the tenderest kiss he can muster. Merlin, to Arthur’s never-ending joy, doesn’t pull back.

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> I... alright, I know authors are supposed to try to be objective about their work, but to make a confession- this was one of my favorite fluffiest 'verses to write in. If anyone were to drop any additional scenes they'd like to see in this universe I would be giddy to write them! xD  
> Though if this made you at least a little happy I'd consider it a job well done. 
> 
> A little shameless self-promotion:  
> you can find me on tumblr too, at @the-seaworthy-muffin, where you can peek at my admittedly horrible Merthur doodles, look at random things, and scream Merlin at me and be screamed back at! (though I am still very much un-knowledegable about tumblr etiquette so you might have to bear with me for that :O)


End file.
